


Dear Sunflower (Trust the Earth, not the Sun)

by awkwardtypeos



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boomers, Crying, Dexter's Laboratory references, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied Sexual Content, Jean and Eren need a hug, Love Confessions, M/M, Mama Bear Ymir, Marco is a huge dick, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mistakes, Please Don't Hate Me, Powerpuff Girls marathon, Rejection, Resisting Police Arrest, Silent Hill movie marathon, Tazers, Ymir and Krista have a fat cat, actually its a lot more like, implied alcohol use, implied fighting, thsi is a roller coaster of emotions but there's a decently happy ending i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardtypeos/pseuds/awkwardtypeos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Plan seems easy, like any job for a grizzled, yet young character, but it never is as easy as it looks. Obstacles, enemies, traps and pools of piranhas distracted him, but it would never keep him from his Fate. Every small smile or offhand remark, every light touch foreshadowed this end point. Every late night, filled with secrets and vulnerable confessions, safety and comfort, was a prelude to this moment. </p><p>Confessing his undying love to Marco Bodt was far harder than Jean had ever thought imaginable.</p><p>-</p><p>A story of confessions, mistakes, and bad reactions. Not everyone is how they seem, and that isn't always a bad thing.<br/>This is how Jean and Eren fall for the same person, and they both end up hurting a lot more than they should.<br/>But, it will all end out alright. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan

When Jean walks into Ymir's shitty apartment on a cold, windy Friday, he has half of a Plan.

He had a full Plan earlier that day, in the shower, and thought of about 10 more on the drive over. None of them made any sense. None of them were good enough to make him feel confident enough to actually even try to go through with them, because he was about as smooth as sandpaper. He wanted this to be perfect.

Unfortunately, somebody small, blonde, incredibly strong, and incredibly lesbian, pulled his attention elsewhere. Literally pulling. It wasn't even a soft landing either; he was pulled over from the back of the couch, the hard framing basically shanking him in the sensitive part of his hip, and fell face first onto the floor, ass up and feet midair.

_Great start to the day._

Jean fell sideways from his extremely painful landing, flopping onto the floor with a very solid thud of a heavy college kid. Every major joint in his body hurt. Rancorous laughter flooded from the couch, and Jean could at least identify the voices as his friends who did absolutely nothing to help him up.

"Fuck off." Jean groaned, and refused to budge even when someone poked his stomach with his or her foot. Jean surveyed the room: he might as well get his bearings before he entered the war zone.

Almost all of his friends were crowded on the tiny-ass couch: Armin was at one end, leaning onto Eren so he could hang his legs off the armrest. To Eren's right was Sasha, who kicked Jean's stomach with her foot again, squealing out, "Krista, you killed him! Killed him I say!" The perpetrator herself, who had practically left Jean feeling like John Cina has suplexed him onto concrete, just giggled harder and leaned into Sasha, arms flailing in hysterics. There was an open spot left for Ymir, who was graciously ignoring her girlfriend's madness by grabbing several drinks from the kitchen.

There are moments where Jean wondered why he even spoke with these people. This was one of them.

After the madness calmed down and Krista was left hiccuping, Ymir sat down and passed out her friends ‘poison’. Jean finally had enough motivation (Pepsi does things to a man) to actually sit up and lean against the couch in between legs.

As the sugar and fizz entered Jean's body, he slowly started to remember what he was here for. Well, not just the Silent Hill marathon with pals, but his Plan. His half of a Plan. The bullet point list on a 5th grader's PowerPoint. Absolutely terrible, but necessary.

The Plan had been on Jean's mind far before the marathon was proposed. In fact, it was on his mind even before he met Ymir or Sasha. After a few months of his freshman year of university, he knew he had to either get his act together or face Mission Impossible.

Two years later, he still struggled to face his destined calling.

So, after Ymir proposed a marathon of his favorite movie series, and a drunken confession of his ‘Mission from God’ to Reiner, The Plan had to happen otherwise Reiner might skin him alive.

The Plan seems easy, like any job for a grizzled, yet young character, but it never is as easy as it looks. Obstacles, enemies, traps and pools of piranhas distracted him, but it would never keep him from his Fate. Every small smile or offhand remark, every light touch foreshadowed this end point. Every late night, filled with secrets and vulnerable confessions, safety and comfort, was a prelude to this moment.

 

Confessing his undying love to Marco Bodt was far harder than Jean had ever thought imaginable.

 

Of course, the person this shit Plan was for hadn’t even so much as popped his head up from around a corner.

Jean turned right to look up at Ymir. "Where's Marco?" he asked, and hoped his voice wasn’t that shaky. She stopped scrolling through Netflix for a moment to think for a second.

"Uh, I swear I just saw him. Like, he's here. I don't know why he didn't come out when Krista knocked the wind out of you." She says with a smirk. Fucking roller derby girls. Pride at every moment of pain their partners can cause.

"So, wait, lemme get this straight," Jean turned fully around, "you lost Marco in your shitty, one bed and bath apartment?"

Ymir grunted. _Thanks you giant lesbian,_ Jean thought to himself. Yeah, loosing Marco had never been a part of The Plan. Sure, Marco showing up late, cheeks flushed from sprinting up the stairs, or, even better, soaking wet from a sudden rainstorm had been a few versions of The Plan, but that was Jean's wishful thinking. Especially wishful thinking when he thought that he would take Marco into Ymir's bedroom to find an extra shirt, and get to watch his friend strip to expose his gorgeous chest, ruffling his hair in the process-

Sasha successfully stops Jean’s train of thought, and lets out an earsplitting bellow of "Marco, get your freckled ass out here, we're starting the movie!", followed by Krista and Armin making a strange whooping noises like its a football game.

There is no response. No creaks of floorboards, no sound at all. Jean expects Marco to softly shuffle around the corner, and sit down on the floor with a muttered "I was in the bathroom, sorry", and then cling to Jean during the movies, leading up The Plan's objective. But no sound is made, and that in itself is enough to make Jean's expected butterflies turn to cold ice.

"Jean!" Krista kicks Jean's shoulder, and he nearly spills his Pepsi on the already stained carpet.

"What?" He snaps out and whirls around to meet the blonde's gaze.

"Go find Marco. We can’t start without him!" She explains, and throws up her hands like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The cold turns into a feverish, sick feeling.

"O-ok fine, just don't kick me, gosh," he sputters out, and slowly stands up. _Shit_. His whole body feels like it’s been hit by a truck. He hobbles towards the single, small bath, and knocks on the white door twice. The sickness, which has never been a part of the Plan, or any Plan, is always there anyways. Jean just likes to ignore the inevitable.

"Marco? You in there?" He sounds ok, at least. No voice breaks, or fear laced stuttering. His disguise is still working.

There is no response from inside. Jean twists the knob, hands shaking more, and sticks his head in.

The bathroom is empty except for, well, the usual bathroom stuff. And a cat box, for the cat that Ymir isn't supposed to have but keep anyways. The landlords never check anyways.

"Is he alive?" Sasha yells out, kind of shrill, and it makes Jean break out in more chills.

"No, I just found his rotting corpse on the floor!" He yelled back in the same shrill tone, throwing Sasha a glare. "Gonna check the bedroom," he mumbles, and he can hear her wrestling Ymir for the remote. If he doesn't hurry up, they'll start the movie without him.

Jean moves to the closed bedroom door, and thinks of probably the hundredth Plan of the day.

 

He will waltz in and smile, and see Marco doing . . . whatever he is doing in there. Then he will tell him the movie is about to start, and lead him to the floor in front of the TV in the smoothest way possible. Or maybe Marco could pull him in and shut the door behind both of them, and the two will be even louder than the screams of the damned through the television. Not probable, but definitely awesome. Upon entering the room, Jean's Plan is gone again, and his entire being is thrown for a loop of emotions.

All 5 feet and 10 inches of Marco is curled up on the bed, passed out next to a very overweight tabby. His shirt, which clung to his body normally, was pushed halfway up his stomach, and his pants hung low enough to see the top of his grey briefs and a thick happy trail, along with freckles staining his sharp hipbones. Marco is breathing evenly, his broad, strong chest rising and falling soundlessly. The tabby, named Steve of all things, is purring loud enough for Jean to hear on the other side of the room.

Marco’s face is relaxed, his plump lips open slightly. His freckles make him look much younger than he is; his face reminds Jean of a sleeping child, innocent and happy. Jean can feel his own lips upturning into a smile, and his anxiety is lost in . . . Marco, as usual. He lets out a small sigh, and Ymir screeches out his name from the couch. Jean starts, and the cat lets out the most pitiful meow possible, sounding like a muffled baby squeal instead of a cat.

“Ymir, shut the hell up!” he hisses quietly, spinning around to face her and her fellow couch potatoes. “He’s asleep!”

Ymir raises a brow and Krista lets out a snort, while Eren, _fucking Eren_ , literally groans and shoves his face in Armin’s neck, mumbling something. Jean hears a very heavy thump, and Steve waddles into the living room, still purring way too loud to be normal, and letting out more baby-speak noises. Jean groans and looks back at Marco, who is still fast asleep.

“I’m gonna wake him up, just don’t scream, you fucknuts.” Jean grumbles out, and walks into the bedroom. Ymir starts to yell something again, but Jean just grabs ahold of the door and slams its shut, blocking out whatever snarky comment she was going to make. _Just wake Marco up; that’s all I have to do, ok?_ Jean hears some shuffling from the bed _._

_Oh god._

_Just stay cool, Jean._

 

He turns around and drinks in the sight of Marco slowly waking up. He’s awkwardly pulling at the sheets and stuffing his face into the mattress, completely missing the pillow. His shit rides up even more, until Jean can see at least half of his chest, but his pants stay in place. Marco let out a few grumbling murmurs and his eyes scrunch against the light, causing his nose to wrinkle adorably. His sleepy grumbles tug at Jean’s heartstrings, until he has to force himself to stop smiling before his face hurts.

Marco curls in on himself a bit when Jean sits down on the bed, which happens to give Jean the perfect view of his butt. _Focus, man, focus._

“Marco, we’re starting the movie.”

“Uuuung.”

“Marco, come on. Silent Hill marathon. We’re talking bloody bodies everywhere and creepy psycho children. Come on”

More groaning. “Gimme a little longer. I, like, got no sleep yesterday. ‘m tired.”

“Well, unless you want Ymir coming in here and dragging you out, you should probably get to waking up.”

Marco lets out a very long, drawn out, dramatic exhale. He slowly starts sitting up, and stretches even slower. He pulls his shirt down, much to Jean’s dismay, and scratches at his scalp. Jean turns and makes to get off of the bed, only getting as far as halfway standing before strong hands pull him back down. He may have let out a high-pitched yelp upon landing back onto the mattress, Marco’s hand securely around his midsection. Marco is laughing, carefree, at his little stunt. His eyes are bright and full of happiness, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. Nothing compared to the absolute bonfire on Jean’s face right now, because Marco is basically pinning him to the bed with his heavy embrace.

“What was that for?” Jean snaps out, but doesn’t resist Marco’s grip.

“I don’t wanna go back outside. Stay with me?” Marco whines like a spoiled rich kid. Seriously.

Jean starts up, because even though this is the perfect setting to make his Plan happen, he’s still too afraid. “Marco-“ _I can’t do this, I’m not ready._

“Just, like, fifteen minuets.” Marco cuts him off, and does this thing where he gives Jean the most exaggerated puppy dog eyes possible. “I need a nap buddy. Besides, Ymir is mad at me.”

Jean turns to his side to fully face Marco, who still has his arms wrapped around him. “Why? She doesn’t usually get mad at you.”

Marco’s face turns a little sour, but the puppy dog impression is still stuck on his face. His voice is lower, and if Jean is honest with himself, bitter. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Some bullshit that isn’t my fault.”

“Ok.”

There is a distant noise from the living room, and they can hear the movie start up. Marco snuggles into the pillows, and keeps his arms tight around Jean; one arm at his waist, and another on Jean’s back. His warmth is so calm, so comforting. Jean blushes again, and his heart hammers so fast that he swears Marco can hear him. It’s moments like these, where Marco is alone and loving, with Jean, that it hits him hard.

_I love this boy. I love his everything. I want to see him wake up with me. I want to hold him, like he’s holding me._

For a moment, Jean imagines that they aren’t in Ymir’s bed, or that Silent Hill is blaring in the other room. He imagines that they are in his bed, and that the movie is their annoying neighbors. He imagines that Marco just got back from class, called him ‘ _baby_ ’, and pulled him into bed to sleep off a boring lecture. Jean lets the fantasy linger too long; he reaches his own arm out, and places it on Marco’s back, coaxing him foreword. Marco doesn’t resist, and snuggles until his breath is ghosting over Jean’s collarbones.

 _Maybe, just maybe, Marco feels the same way. Maybe he had his own Plan in his head. Maybe Marco… just maybe… maybe_. _Marco is rarely this affectionate. I mean, we’re close, but this is…_

_This is almost … intimate._

Jean’s is pulled out of his thoughts by Marco murmuring words against his chest. "To be honest, I just want to lay here for another hour." Marco sighs, his breath sending shivers up Jean’s spine. He lifts his head up a little, and softly looks into Jean’s eyes. For a moment, Jean is sure that those droopy, almond eyes are full of love.

"Me too…" Jean sighs out, and freezes up in place. It was too loud for Marco to have misheard. The sick feeling isn't here yet; maybe he can actually do something. Maybe he has a chance.

"I thought you loved Silent Hill?" Marco ponders, and Jean can't tell if he's noticed it yet. But those eyes, and the light that reflects in them, the light that leaves Jean with giddy feelings in his chest, brings out the truth before he can stop.

"I love you more."

Marco laughs and snuggles into Jean more, stuffing his face in Jean’s hair. “Love you too. But, no homo, right bro?”

The silence afterwards is sharp. Even the movie on the other side is quiet.

“Marco, are you serious?” Jean is shaking. Marco looks back up at him; he obviously felt Jean’s reaction, maybe he hears the pain in his voice.

“What? I said I love you back.”

“Marco.” Jean stares in deep, brow eyes. He stares at the dimples that bring out Marco’s soft features. He stares at his constellation of freckles that lit up his nights for the past two years. Somehow, he doesn’t stutter, and the trembling feeling in his heart doesn’t bleed into his words. “I’m in love with you.”

Marco's eyes slowly widen. His comforting smile, disappears. His face grows pale, and his freckles stand out unnaturally. He stares at Jean, whose face is aflame and stomach turning enough to sink the Titanic without the iceberg.

Jean is taking short breaths, but Marco stays still.

Jean isn't very good at reading people, he knows. He leads people; he makes good decisions, and shitty jokes. So, when Marco forcefully pushes Jean away and sits up, facing away from him, he can't even think. His body somehow follows, and the bedsprings squeak as he sits up, much slower than when Marco all but fled from him. He keeps his eyes on Marco, hoping to see something, anything, that will give him some light. Anything to avoid what his heart is screaming as the trembling feeling in his stomach turns into a cold that spreads over his body.

_Please don’t do this to me._

Marco looks at Jean, and his expression is unreadable, but the best way to describe his furrowed brows and flickering eyes, is solemn. He turns away sharply a second later, grips the edge of the bed. He takes in a shuddering breath and, finally, speaks.

"This isn’t a joke, is it?”

Jean feels numb. After a few moments, Marco turns back to him. He is back to that unreadable expression again. Jean feels himself shake his head in answer, a slow left and right, but nothing else.

_Please, please be nice about it. Just say you don’t feel the same way. Please don’t run away._

"I, um, I don’t…I mean I just…don’t feel the same way…as you do…?" Marco isn’t stuttering, but he isn’t being clear either. “I don’t want to sleep with you, you know?”

The sound of mutilation on the other side of the wall roars back to life.

The words come out of Jean's mouth, the air from his lungs, but it feels like his heart and mind are disconnected. "It’s fine. I wasn't expecting anything."

He knows that Marco has no reason to share his feelings, but he can't help but start tearing up as the moment of utter heartbreak and other emotions practically rip him in half like a bloody, rusted cleaver.

His mind is screaming, and his eyes burn, but his legs somehow carry him out of the bedroom, into the living room, and out of the apartment. He begins to shake uncontrollably once he reaches his car - he manages to press the unlock button on the key fob, and throws himself into the backseat of his car before he utterly breaks down.

 

He screams.

 

 

 

Unrequited love is normal; what isn't normal is how much pain it brings. The pain of two years of repressing that love into smiles and friendship, to be turned down so painfully, is another situation altogether. Lots of people say that love is something that comes and goes, but what they don't tell you is how much it destroys a person from the inside out. How terrible it feels to reach that point where you can’t think ‘ _what if?_ ’ or ‘ _maybe?_ ’ anymore. All that remains is the ragged edges of truth buried in your chest, puncturing your heart.

_He never wanted you._

Jean feels like his body is being torn apart. He feels gashes slashed across his chest, and scratches in his throat. His joints burn and scream and he curls inwards, and his bones feel brittle as he clutches his knees. He feels like shards of glass are his limbs, and countless other fragile, painful metaphors.

 

_You’re selfish and disgusting._

_“I don’t want to sleep with you, you know?”_

 

The tears fall with his coarse screams for what seems like hours.

 

He feels something embracing him, pulling his aching body upwards. He clings tightly onto the figure, and sobs into them. Jean gives into the pain, and just collapses onto the figure, holding nothing back. The tears are almost gone, but now he's whimpering brokenly and globs of snot are dripping from his nose. He doesn't notice who does it, but he ends up with several wads of tissues in his hand. He reflexively wipes away the grime on his face, and goes back to curling himself into the embrace that grounds him.

It isn't until much later, when the sharp pain has dulled and he feels exhausted, that Jean even realizes who's surrounding him. Sasha has the tissue box, almost empty, and Armin is chatting with Krista behind the car, looking shaken. Eren is awkwardly squashed in the car, holding Jean tight. He doesn’t really talk; it’s more of a few broken words and grunts. Apparently, after Jean stormed out of the apartment, Ymir confronted Marco. After a serious shouting match with Ymir, Marco left. Nobody would tell Jean what it was about. Eren ran out the door, followed by Sasha, halfway through the argument, and practically ripped his car door off. He scooped up Jean, and let him cry all over his shirt.

He didn't comment on how deep the snot stains were.


	2. Similar Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah,” Eren nearly chokes out. “It’s really fucked up, actually.” Jean shifts further down the couch, so Eren can have more room. They sit face-to-face, knees touching. Eren is still fidgeting with his hands.
> 
> “Take your time Eren.” Jean whispers out, and runs his hand along Eren’s bicep. “It’s probably not your fault.”
> 
> “I don’t fucking know who’s fault it is!”

For the next few weeks, the level of support Jean got from his friends should have dubbed them Saints. They all knew the story, and understood how, in Ymir’s words, ‘utterly fucked up’ the whole event was. In the few classes he shared with Marco, they made him sit on the other side of the room, and kept him distracted from Marco's corner. The only time he ever saw Marco was the vague movement of him leaving or entering lecture halls out of the corner of his eye. Even those small glimpses make him size up in fear, but they quickly passed when Eren would make a shitty joke or, on one occasion, decided to put Ketchup on his nose. Something to do with being 'a clown to turn his frown upside down'.

After about a month, Jean felt a lot better about it all. He wasn't over it; no one ever is. But he could cope. He could look at Marco now, at least. From across campus, or in hallways. They haven’t spoken since.

His reactions seemed a bit extreme, according to Connie, and Jean slowly started to agree with him. It was true that Jean could have talked it out with Marco a bit more. He could have explained to Marco that he wasn't just lusting after him. He could have _at least_ cleared _that_ up. But Marco's reaction probably would have stayed the same - he didn't feel the same way no matter what. The fact that Marco physically _pushed_ him away was the most terrifying. Marco had been around homosexual people before. He wasn't afraid of disgusted with homosexuality. Heck, he was snoozing on _Ymir and Krista's bed._

Jean still didn't know what the argument between Ymir and Marco was until winter break, while Eren was spending the night; AKA cuddling and watching old cartoons and throwing popcorn at each other every once in a while. Friendship kind of grows when anyone snots all over their friend’s shirt. And then proceeds to be a moody little shit, but at least he was a moody shit for a good reason. Eren's 'no bullshit' attitude was just what Jean needed over the last month. When jean would get lost in a bit of self loathing, or a little too sad for Eren's liking, he woudl straight up an punch Jean. Literally. And then make some sort of pun about how Ymir' hickey looked lie Abraham Lincoln, or how they should buy Sasha a Mr. Potato Head as a birthday gift. With Eren, things were better. Not perfect, but better. _  
_

"Hey, Jean?" Eren asks one decently OK Friday night. No tests, lots of rain, and a fire alarm in the science wing.

_I wonder if the fire was Professor Hanji. I swear they are making heroin or something, like, all the time..._

“Jean.” Eren says again, trying to get his attention. “Jeany boy. Jeanbo.”

_Why did they even need to call the fire department, anyways? The fire was on the top floor. In the rain. Dumbasses..._

“Horseface McGee.” Jean definitely hears that, and promptly slaps Eren on his arm, causing Eren to burst into snickers. “Oh, so you’re finally paying attention to me? I was afraid I was gonna have to suck your dick o get your attention.”

“Eren, shut the fuck up. God, just, wow.” Eren keeps snickering and Jean hits him again. “What the hell is it anyways, I’m trying to watch the show.”

"When you get drunk, do you remember the shit you do?" Eren says point blank. Jean wiggles around until he can look down at Eren, who's been sitting crisscross applesauce between Jean's legs with a bowl of popcorn.

"Why, you thinking of drinking? Today's too nice to do that, honestly," Jean says, ready to stop this conversation and get back to Dexter's Lab. It’s his favorite episode, where Dexter is shrunk and trapped inside Dee Dee’s dollhouse.

Eren starts talking again. "You didn't answer the question, Jean," and he dares, DARES to grab the remote and pause Dexter's Lab.

"Eren, is this really that important?" Jean groans, and stares down with a look of 'are you serious, please let me watch my show', and Eren hums in acknowledgment. Jean sighs. "Well," he starts, "my smartass answer would be that if I did anything stupid while drunk, I’d never know if I forgot it because that's what I did. Forgot it." Eren leans back into Jean's chest a little heavily and groans.

"But," Jean continues, "I will admit that I have often been told by less drunk people, that I try to sing very off key when smashed. But, I never remember that. So, yeah, I guess I forget stuff sometimes.”

“If you, um,” Eren stammers, out, “happened to get, um a little drunk, and uh, did something really fucking stupid-“ Jean grabs Eren’s shoulder and forcefully turns him around, almost knocking down the popcorn bowl in the process.

“What are you going on about?” Eren looks really scared, the color draining from his face. His eyes had lost their shine, and looked sickly green.

“Like… sleep with somebody?” he almost whispers out. His eyes flit around in the silence that follows, and they finally stay downward, towards the popcorn still in his lap.

“That depends, you know.” Jean says, quieter and kinder than before, and moves the popcorn to the floor. “I mean, if it was consensual, then no biggie. Like, a one night stand, or you guys planed beforehand.” Eren doesn’t respond at all, and keeps his gaze low. He starts to fidget with his hands, wringing them over and over. “It’s more complicated then that, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Eren nearly chokes out. “It’s really fucked up, actually.” Jean shifts further down the couch, so Eren can have more room. They sit face-to-face, knees touching. Eren is still fidgeting with his hands.

“Take your time Eren.” Jean whispers out, and runs his hand along Eren’s bicep. “It’s probably not your fault.”

“I don’t fucking know who’s fault it is!” Eren chokes out, and clenches his hands into fists. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I really liked the guy, too. I really liked him, a-and I thought he liked me too. We just…clicked. We were hanging out over summer. Drinking, uh, obviously. We didn’t even drink that much, honestly. We really weren’t. But then he was grabbing my ass, a-and -” Eren cut himself off, his voice raised. Jean slowly put his hand over Eren’s fists, and moved his fingers between Eren’s, until he clenching fingers had relaxed into a softer hold.

Eren took a few breaths of air, and squeezed Jean’s hand. “I don’t know if it was the drinking, which I doubt more and more every day, but uh, he said he didn’t remember any of it. It uh, hurts more cause he…when we were together, um...he told me he loved me.”

“Shit.” Jean breathed out, and pulled Eren close, arms secure around his back, enough that Eren’s face was cradled in his neck. Eren was taking sharp, deep breaths, and curled himself into his friend’s embrace, shaking.

“He blames me. He woke up, and started yelling, and oh god, oh g-god… he called me so many things,” Eren quivers and shakes more, and holds on to Jean with a crushing grip. “We were barely buzzed, god he’s such a liar, oh my god.”

They held each other for a while. Eren’s mangled breathing and Jean’s soothing coos were loud in the empty apartment. He told Eren how strong he was, how that guy wasn’t worth any of his time. How it obviously wasn’t his fault, and how this guy was obviously ‘about as useful as moldy bread’. Eren laughed a bit at that.

Jean remembered how Eren had said similar things to him after Marco.

Eren’s breathing was almost back to normal. He didn’t cry, but he was still shaking. Experiences like that are a storm of shame and betrayal, and you can’t tell who’s wrong and who’s right.

“Hey, Eren,” Jean nudged Eren’s forehead with his nose, softly nuzzling into his dark hair. Eren leaned into his touch, just a tad. “Do I know this guy?”

Eren stilled under him, and he didn’t talk for a while, just idly running his hand along Jean’s spine. “Remember how Ymir was screaming at Marco?” he said.

Jena froze. “Yeah.”

Eren was silent again, as if he was trying to think about his response. After a long silence, long enough that Jean thinks Eren memorized his vertebra, he speaks up. In the softest, most vulnerable voice Jean has ever heard, he says, “He’s hurt a lot of people.”

 

* * *

 

 

The two of them spent almost every day together in some way or form; nights at each others apartments, Skype calls, or texting. They talked about a lot of things. Eren talked about the aftermath of the one night stand. How Marco refused to believe that they had sex, and that he ‘didn’t know why it happened’. That Marco, their ‘sweet freckled Jesus’, blamed Eren and called him a ‘horny bastard’. Eren cried at that memory, and they spent the whole evening watching the Powerpuff Girls.

He even admitted that his bronchitis during the start of fall term was fake, and just a way to avoid Marco entirely. He had very few options. The first time he saw Marco after their argument, he almost had a panic attack. Ymir ended up calming him down, and he told her everything. The only reason she didn’t beat up Marco was because she believed Marco when he said he was drunk. She yelled at him for being so cruel to Eren, but took very little action.

During another movie night, Krista told Jean when he confessed to Marco, he said similar things about Jean. Ymir chased him out of her apartment with a baseball bat. They haven’t spoken to him since.

Jean thought Marco would be better than that – he thought he would atone for his actions, he thought Marco would be kind and apologize profusely for what he did to both of them. He thought Marco was kinder than the cold, hard reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER:  
> It's only after you heal that the fight really begins.
> 
> Remember when I said you guys might hate me? yeah. It's starting now, and it's only going to get worse.  
> As I said in the last chapter notes, Marco's true colors are showing up more. He has a lot of insecurities surrounding his sexuality and himself in general. He has a lot of trouble believing that he is wrong, so blames other people instead of accepting his actions. Since most of his friends like him so much, he thinks he can just brush off his problems onto them, and they will forgive him.   
> Once again, I actually LOVE Marco's canon character, the sweet baby boy. But, this is a very specific interpretation of how Marco's character could have gone south.


	3. Somewhere to Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean can feel Eren shaking, breaking, so he pulls him close, away from the stinging words. He doesn’t break eye contact with Marco, though, and steels himself before he speaks.  
> “The problem isn’t that you didn’t feel the same way. The problem is that you automatically thought that we were lusting after you, and said terrible things about both of us.”  
> Marco’s blank stare, his mask, hasn’t moved an inch. “If you were really the guy we thought you were, then you would have apologized.” Jean feels the shaking coming back. “But, that obviously isn’t going to happen.”

It was February when Jean and Eren left Boomers, smiling more than they had in a long time. Eren was in a fit of giggles as Jean walked him back to his apartment, reminiscing on his terrible putting. Jean just pushed Eren jokingly, and kept walking, smiling. That’s when he spotted another person on the sidewalk, just standing there. The guy stood on the sidewalk with the remnants of a bouquet of flowers, and a bruise on his face, marring his soft features. Features they both could recognize instantly. Eren stopped walking and stared, as he turned towards them both.

“Hey,” the figure said, with a small sad smile, the dimples in his cheeks just as soft as they always were. The Marco they both fell for, the same Marco that tore them up. Eren grabbed Jean’s hand and held it tight.

“What are you doing here?” Jean gritted out.

_I have to stay strong. I have to._

“My girlfriend lives here.” Marco said, making a motion with his flowers. A few petals fell off in the process. He chuckled. “Well, ex girlfriend I suppose. ”

“Good. She deserves better than you.” Jean spits his words out. He isn’t trembling, he doesn’t feel sick.

_I am going to be strong._

Marco gasps. “Jean, how could you say something like that?” His name on Marco's lips stings like blacktop shredding his skin.

“We speak from experience.” Eren says suddenly, and Marco looks at him like he just realized he was there the whole time. Jean can feel the anger, and more importantly, the disappointment that Eren radiates with each word. “I don’t know why you act like this, I doubt I ever will. You bullshit yourself into people’s hearts, and then you have the fucking gall to call them desperate and needy. They were just trusting their so-called friend, not trying to take control, or whatever you are afraid of.”

“You’re just making this up as you go.” Marco says, with a blank expression. Jean realizes that it’s the same expression that Marco had at Ymir’s apartment. He shows no remorse, he shows nothing close to pain or recognition. It dawns on him; this is the face that Marco hides behind. This is Marco, hiding how manipulative he really is. “You two are just mad that I don’t want to fuck you. Well, sorry for not being gay.”

Jean can feel Eren shaking, breaking, so he pulls him close, away from the stinging words. He doesn’t break eye contact with Marco, though, and steels himself before he speaks. “The problem isn’t that you didn’t feel the same way. The problem is that you automatically thought that we were lusting after you, and said terrible things about both of us.” Marco’s blank stare, his mask, hasn’t moved an inch. “If you were really the guy we thought you were, then you would have apologized.” Jean feels the shaking coming back. “But, that obviously isn’t going to happen.”

He leads Eren down the sidewalk, past Marco, who has yet to do anything. They get past him, and reach the staircase behind him in silence, before Marco breaks.

“That’s just because you are fags! You wanted to sleep with me! I didn’t do anything wrong!” Marco screams out, and throws the bouquet at both of them. Eren sees it first, and pulls Jean close to him, out of the bouquet’s path. The ruined flowers sail by, and they jog up the stairs, hand in hand. Marco’s shouting voice echoes in the stairwell. “I did nothing wrong! I didn’t do anything!” 

They don’t look back. Marco’s yelling echoes off the walls, down the hallways, following them as they run to Eren’s apartment.

“You sluts just want pity!”

Eren shakes so much that he can’t hold onto his keys.

“Why don’t you just pity fuck each other!”

Jean takes them out of his trembling hands, and opens the door almost violently.

Eren dashes inside, with hands over his ears.

“You’re desperate enou-“

The door slams shut, blocking out Marco’s screaming. All that’s left is muffled sound.

 

And then Jean hears Eren’s sobbing cries.

“No…no no….why.."

Jean turns to see Eren on the ground, huddled in on himself, curling into a small ball on the floor, next to the couch, hands over his ears.

“Eren, no, no please”, Jean rushes over and runs his hands over him soothingly. “It’s over Eren, its over, you’re ok.” Eren’s tears are heavy, and he rocks back and forth in time with his string of ‘no’s tumbling out with each broken breath.

“He’s wrong Eren, you know h-he’s wrong,” Jean’s voice wavers slightly, Eren’s tears getting to him. “You’re a wonderful person Eren, you’re wonderful and y-you don’t deserve any of that.”

Jean keeps murmuring these words, which mean so much more than Marco’s ever could. When Eren’s tears dry, and he crushes Jean in a hug, and softly rocks their bodies back and forth as Jean’s tears fall silently.

“He’s so full of shit…s-so full of shit…don’t ever listen, ok? Do-don’t ever,” Jean whispers out, his knuckles white from his grip on Eren’s shirt. Eren scoots a bit further into Jean’s embrace, the cold floor of the apartment squeaking with the movement, as they both breath slowly, recovering together.

 

The screaming from outside has stopped.

 

They sit there, in each other’s embrace, for a long time, until Jean deems them both ready to move from the floor. He shakily sits up, and reaches way over to the coffee table to grab some tissues, because he knows they are both covered in salty tears and maybe a bit of snot. He places the box between them, and they both grab a few, wiping at their red eyes and noses.

Jean just dumps all his tissues on the floor. Eren spies a trash can several feet away, and lobs his wads of tissue into them, and makes small triumphant noises when they make it.

Jean watches him and smiles, a warmth blooming in his chest.

Jean slowly stands up, a little shaky on his feet, but still stable enough to grab all his tissues from the floor and walk them to the can. He turns back, and Eren is watching him with his eyes vibrant and a little red around the edges, but with a smile on his face. Jean smiles back, and watches as his friend uses the couch’s armrest to haul himself off the floor. Standing up, Eren looks back at Jean, and his grin reappears, slight, but it’s enough to start butterflies in his chest.

“You going home tonight?” Eren asks.

“Nah. I mean, if that's ok with you?” he responds, shuffling back to Eren’s side. Eren’s little smile widens, and he reaches out a hand, brushing his knuckles along Jean’s bicep.

“It’s fine,” he says, and Jean meets his giddy smile in full force, melting into his touch. The soft contact is so reserved, so fragile. Jean’s completely entranced. _  
_

_You’re wonderful Eren. Absolutely wonderful.  
_

Jean melts further, gazing upon Eren’s face, his growing smile. Eren’s hand unfolds, fingers outstretched, and travels further up Jean’s arm, over his shoulder, his fingers lightly caressing-

_“OK, first things first I'll eat your brains,  
Then I'm a start rocking gold teeth and fangs-“_

Eren jolts his hand away from Jean, flushing harshly, muttering curses as he digs into his back pocket. He pulls out his severely mistreated iPhone, which is still blasting Niki like there is no tomorrow. He takes a peek at the caller ID, and curses even louder, and takes the call.

“Ymir? What’s up?” Eren says into the receiver, leaning against the side of the armrest. Jean gives him a questioning look, and Eren shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m home, why?” He pauses and his face blanches a bit, eyes locked on Jean’s. “Oh, um, yeah we, uh, heard that. Yeah…. yeah, I’m with Jean.

Eren sits down on the couch, and Jean stands there, unsure of what to do. “Boomers, I, uh, kicked his ass, but…Wait, what?” Eren’s eyes are big and he’s not shaking, but definitely startled by whatever Ymir is saying on the other line. “Ymir- h-hold on, I’m going to put you on speaker, ok?”

Eren motions for Jean to sit down next to him, and presses the speaker button on his slightly cracked screen. Immediately, Ymir’s shouting voice enters the quiet apartment like a car flying through the wall.

“-Krista I’m perfectly fine, I have a fucking reason to be pissed to the high heavens, ok! Why the fuck aren’t you yelling too, ok, this is bullshit! Fuck, it’s not even shit anymore, its straight up house manure-!“

“Ymir, I’ve got Jean on speaker with me, can you repeat for him?” Eren says into he phone, and Jean feels a little scared.

_What happened? Is everything ok? I don’t know if I can handle any thing else crazy tonight. Eren had I had been…_

_What had we been doing?_

Ymir’s screeching tantrum keeps Jean from speculating pretty quickly, and both boys listen in.

“I was on Skype with a pal of mine named Franz who also lives in your complex, and we started hearing this guys screaming and cursing. Like, this guy was yelling tons of homophobic shit, ok, and Franz thought the guy would shut up after a little bit."

Jean glances at Eren with a knowing look.

" -this guy was screaming for a good twenty minutes. So Franz calls the cops, and he has to go out and identify the dude because what police guys do-!“

“Ymir you are making this way too long!” Krista yells over her girlfriend. Their increased volume causes the phone's speaker to wig out and just release static, but Eren and Jean already know where this is heading.

“It was Marco, wasn’t it,” Jean says, addressing Ymir, but looking at Eren.

“How’d ya know? Did you see him?”

“We um-“ Jean starts.

“We ran into him on the way back from Boomers.” Eren finishes, sliding his fingers through Jean’s on the couch, softly comforting both of them. “We confronted him, and he threw a hissy fit.”

“Heard he had a nice shiner, who threw the punch?” Ymir asks, Krista scolding her into the background.

“Neither of us, actually,” Jean says, staring Eren in the eyes, then snorts out a laugh.

“His girlfriend broke up with him, she’s got great aim. Worst thing he did was throw some flowers at us.”

Ymir cackles from the receiver. “Wow, I’m glad the police found him instead of me. I think he’s gotten a decent dose of his own medicine.”

“So, uh,” Eren stutters out, “Did he, um, get arrested or what? We, um, didn’t hear any sirens.”

“Yeah, He’s going in for disturbing the peace, resisting arrest, and assaulting an officer.” Ymir lists off, nonchalantly.

“A-assault?” Jean squeaks out.

“Yeah, Marco resisted arrest and took on at least three guys! They had to taze him and cuff his legs! That’s why I called, to make sure you were ok.”

“We’re fine, he yelled at us a bit, and then we ran into Eren’s. He was saying some pretty nasty stuff.” Jean replied, and Ymir started talking about the details of the arrest. According to the police, Marco could spend up to five years in jail, or more, since he got hits on several officers. He might even be banned from the apartment complex entirely.

Eren thanked her, and hung up the phone, encasing the room with silence again. Eren sighed, and leaned into Jean’s chest, their hands still interlocked.

“Sounds like he wont be bugging us for a long time, huh?” Jean says, brushing his fingers through Eren’s hair, softly. He gets a groan in response, rumbling through his chest. “You wanna hit the hay?”

“Please,” Eren whimpers out, and Jean moves to get of the couch and grab some blankets, as usual. He never sleeps in Eren’s bed, they were just friends.

_Are we?_

Small patters of feet follow him across the floor, and Jean turns to see Eren standing mere inches behind him, hand on his arm.

“You can, um, sleep with me, ya know.” He mumbles out, eyes darting all over the place.

“Okay,” is all Jean can say. He feels those butterflies, feels that intimacy, the closeness from before Ymir called, return. Eren’s hand lingers by his own. Without much thought, Jean lets his bony fingers reach out and take the stronger, calloused hand in front of him. He risks a peek at Eren's face, and finds it slightly flushed.

 

* * *

 

Later, Jean realizes that he feels the safest in Eren’s bed, his nightlight casting a faint blue glow in the room. (“You’re afraid of the dark?” He asked Eren, who shrugged in response. “Don’t tell anyone. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a little light-up octopus in a top hat.” “Point taken.”)

He feels the most secure with Eren’s strong hand in his, the earthy boy smell of unwashed sheets surrounding him.

Eren had been poking Jean’s legs with his cold toes for a while now, and Jean realizes that it might be because he wants to talk about something.

“What’s up, Eren?”

Eren looks at him, his green eyes still somehow standing out in the encompassing ocean blue light. He takes a small breath, and his hand tightens slightly around Jean’s.

“You mean so much to me, Jean. Thank you,” he whispers out. “Thank you so much.”

Jean pulls Eren close on instinct, taking the blue boy with green eyes, who smells like sweat, into his arms.

He holds him close as Eren continues murmuring his thanks, only stopping when Jean tentatively presses a kiss to Eren's forehead, then his lips.

 

Jean pulls back, prepared to cover up with how he wanted to convey his thanks, he wasn’t into Eren. Some kind of lie that would keep them both safe from any more pain. But chapped lips meet his own again, and again, light pecks with hushed nothings in between, and both boys cursing themselves for not realizing it sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG THANKS TO HEATHER AND JESSICA, MY BETAS!! Jess helped me find a shit ton of passive voice problems and made this a lto less wordy. Heather pointed out my giant spelling and grammar errors, and sent me cute little emoticons for encouragement.
> 
> Title Notes: I happened to be listening to an early 2000's throwback playlist while getting ready to post this, and the Hilary Duff jam was too intense for me. Don't judge me.
> 
> What you CAN judge me for is the pain and tears you might have experienced in this chapter. I'm only slightly sorry. As mentioned before, Marco's problems were only going to get worse, and this is what I meant. Go ahead and call him OOC, but as I said before, I can easily see Marco like this under these circumstances. Eren hit the nail right on the head when he pointed out Marco's fear of loosing control. If people don't like him, he immediately writes them off as really bad people because 'How could you not like me?'. also, his internalized homophobia is a big factor in his decisions.
> 
> More importantly, Jean and Eren had a decent level of character growth here, compared to the first chapter. Enough that they realized how important it is to support each other in harsh situations. I wish I could have added a few more scenes to strengthen their bonding, but oh well. I'm a little lazy. Their relationship is more based on understanding and accepting each others personalities and inner demons. They do find each other attractive, but they focus more on their qualities as a whole instead of the "omg he is so HOT" thing they had for Marco. They were so focused on how 'perfect' he was that they skimmed over his imperfections, which is not how you should approach a relationship.
> 
> So, the end? Might make a side work about Marco's issues. Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> NEXT CHAPTER: Jean copes and finds out who his real friends are, flaws and all.
> 
> This started out as a small oneshot that turned into a huge 20 page monstrosity of broken hearts. Overall, the story is actually already done, but I'm posting this in sections because I still need the last section beta'd before I post it.  
> As mentioned in the tags, I have a very specific view of Marco in this story, which might seem OOC to a lot of readers. Think of it as a certain kind of Dark! Marco. I can easily see his actions and personality as something different in this specific modern atmosphere. I can see Marco as that guy who acts nice on the outside, is a bit too loud, and everyone instantly thinks he's great. But, he actually just projects this image to hide a lot of other issues, which you have seen in this chapter. Maybe I'll get into explaining his character a lot more later on, but right now, you just have to keep reading.  
> If you have more questions, feel free to contact me on my Tumblr: http://awkwardlyinnocent.tumblr.com/


End file.
